Newlywed bliss shatters when Sarah’s husband, Jake, accuses her of cheating after “smelling cologne” in their bedroom.
Alone and humiliated, Sarah pieces together the truth — and it’s far from what Jake expected.
It had only been two weeks since Jake and I said our vows.
Two weeks of riding that post-wedding glow like it was some invincible wave.
It felt like we were untouchable. No one told me how quickly that feeling could collapse.
Jake’s mom had the accident on a Sunday morning. I was folding laundry when he got the call.
One second, he was tapping his phone on the counter, scrolling through some meme page, and the next, his face drained of color.
“Mom’s hurt,” he said, already pulling on his hoodie. “Dad accidentally hit her with the car.” His voice cracked on that last part. “Her hip… it’s bad.
She needs an urgent replacement.”
I grabbed the keys for him. “I’ll drive.”
“No, no. I’ll be faster.” His eyes met mine, wild and unfocused.
“I’ll call you when I know more.”
He kissed me on the side of my head, and then he was gone. Just like that. I stood in the kitchen, the faint smell of detergent in the air, trying to process what he’d just said.
His dad hit his mom with the car?
Hours later, he called to say he’d be staying at his parents’ house to help care for her post-surgery. I told him it was fine. It was.
What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t understand that?
Three days later, on Wednesday morning, I was halfway out the door for work when I heard the front lock turn behind me. My heart jumped. Jake?
He stepped in wearing the same hoodie and worn jeans.
He grinned when he saw me, but as I hurried forward to greet him, he stopped in his tracks. His nose crinkled and his eyes darted across the apartment like he was searching for something.
“Hey, babe! I didn’t know you were coming back today,” I said.
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t even look at me, just kept scanning the place. Then his eyes locked on me, hard as stone.
“Who’s been here?” he asked, his voice sharp as a blade.
“What?” I blinked, stunned. “No one’s been here, Jake.
It’s just me.”
He tilted his head toward the bedroom. “Then why does it smell like cologne in there?”
I laughed, but it came out too light, too nervous. “Cologne?
What are you talking about?”
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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